The Blood that Binds (Thicker than Blood Book 3)

by Madeline Sheehan

  Willow

  Morning reached me much like it always had—with the rise of the sun and the sounds of the world waking up around me.

  Waking up without me.

  Eyes squeezed shut, my heart pounding in my chest, I relived my last moment with Lucas—watching him drop out of sight, never to be seen again. My eyes flew open as I was forced to face the daily realization that Lucas was gone. That Lucas was forever gone. And just as it did every morning for the last month, that realization would set the tone for the entire day; I felt too heavy to move. The world outside this bed, outside Doc’s cabin, seemed too big and bright.

  “Rise and shine, sleepyhead.” My curtains were thrown open, bright sunlight spilled into the room. “It’s beautiful outside—be a damn shame for you to miss it.”

  Doc stood over me, holding a steaming mug of coffee. She was still in her pajamas—a pair of loose-fitting cotton shorts and a T-shirt, with a silken wrap wound around her head, hiding her long locks.

  Wincing against the sunlight, I pulled my covers over my head. “No thank you,” I mumbled.

  “Today is the day.” Doc’s no-nonsense tone followed her determined footsteps around the room. Another set of curtains were pulled open; more sunlight spilled inside. “You have to get out of that damn bed and rejoin the land of living.”

  The blankets were yanked away from my face; Doc loomed over me, her expression kind yet stern. “Honey, you and I both know that the only thing stopping you from leaving this cabin is you. Now, I’d much rather watch you walk out of here on your own two feet, but if you’re going to make me carry you, then so be it…”

  “Okay,” I snapped softly, quickly shifting upright and scooting away.

  Doc eyed me over the rim of her coffee. “Mmhm, now we’re gettin’ somewhere. You’d do well with a shower today, too. And to take out those braids and give that hair a good brushing.”

  Twisting my sheet in my hands, I eyed the soft material with contempt. Obviously, Doc was right—there was no good reason for me to not get up and out. My leg was more or less healed; what remained of my wound was a small red line that rarely caused me pain anymore. And maybe that was the problem—the better I was feeling physically, the worse I felt mentally. I’d even begun wishing the infection would return, if only to divert my unending thoughts of Lucas. Without the fever to confuse me, without the pain to distract me, and without the drugs to numb me, I was feeling everything—all the grief and guilt and sorrow—tenfold.

  “Britta dropped off a few more things for you last night,” Doc continued, “another pair of pants and some clean underthings. I put them with the rest of your stuff.”

  Aside from Doc and Leisel, Britta was the only other person I saw on a regular basis. She seemed to constantly need medical treatment; every other day, she would show up requiring a bandage or the occasional stitch. Loud and always laughing, she was nosy too, oftentimes poking her head in my room, even going as far as to pull up a chair beside my bed and having entire conversations with me, despite the fact that I rarely replied.

  “I have some free time this morning,” Doc said over her shoulder as she moved toward the door. “Once you’re dressed, I’ll show you where the bathhouse is.”

  My gaze jerked back to Doc, my scowl deepening. I hadn’t ventured outside since the day Logan and I had fought by the gate; the mere thought of everything and everyone beyond Doc’s cabin left me feeling nauseous. There were so many people out there; after so long with only the three of us, the idea of living among such a large group felt way too daunting. Furthering my anxiety was the noticeable lack of Logan in my life. After years of him constantly berating me, and always breathing down my neck, judging my every move, two weeks without even as much as a glimpse of him felt… wrong.

  “I’ve been cleaning myself,” I muttered.

  Pausing, Doc glanced back at me, her lips pursed with impatience. “Willow, a sponge bath in that itty-bitty bathroom isn’t the same as an actual shower. Is this what you think that boy, Lucas, would have wanted for you? To waste away in a hospital bed?”

  At the mention of Lucas, my eyes went wide. “That’s not fair,” I bit out.

  Despite my melancholy, Doc had become something of a friendly face; at the very least, a regular face, and I’d grown comfortable with her to the point of confiding in her. Something I was absolutely regretting at this moment.

  “Nothing in the world is fair, honey, but that doesn’t mean we stop living. Now get up and let’s go.”

  As she disappeared around the corner, I stared after her, my stomach fluttering. A shuddering breath fled my lips and, before I could talk myself out of it, I’d slid out of bed and was limping across the room, shuffling through the collection of clothing I’d been slowly accumulating. Grabbing several items, I pulled my socks and boots on and, with another trembling breath, left my room.

  Perched on the edge of her desk, freshly dressed in jeans and a tank top, Doc glanced at me with a smile. “Ready?” she said, moving to the door without waiting for an answer.

  As the front door swung open; the sun hit me first, followed by a warm breeze of fresh air. Doc descended the porch steps, gesturing for me to follow. “We’ll go this way,” she said, directing me off the beaten path. “Fewer people.”

  Following a short ways behind her, I kept my head down, until a moderate-sized cabin came into view, a large wooden sign hanging above the doorless entrance that read: BATHHOUSE. “Here we are,” Doc announced. “Jordy takes care of cleaning and whatnot. Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

  Jordy must have heard us coming; a tall, slim figure appeared around the side of the brick partition that led inside the bathhouse. With short dark hair and eyes to match, he wore only a pair of green khaki shorts that hung low on his hips, highlighting the sharp V-shape chiseled into his lower abdomen. Despite his lean frame, tight muscles corded his arms and legs, and for a brief moment, he reminded me of Lucas.

  “What’s up, Doc?” he asked, smiling broadly, his deep voice thickly accented.

  “The sky, honey, that’s what,” Doc said, chuckling. “But down here is Willow, and Willow is in desperate need of a shower.”

  Jordy’s gaze slid to me, his dark eyes appraising me from head to foot. “That bad, huh?”

  “Worse,” Doc replied, and they both laughed.

  Feeling the heat of embarrassment fan my cheeks, I glared at the ground. “Okay,” I muttered. “I get it—I stink. Did you forget that I almost died recently?”

  “Almost died?” Jordy continued to laugh. “Mate, that’s an everyday occurrence in this world—stop acting like you’re special or something.”

  My head jerked up, my glare clashing with Jordy’s easygoing grin. But before I could think up a response, Doc was shoving a wide-tooth comb in my hand. “For your hair,” she said, giving me a gentle shove forward. “I’ll see you back at my place, alright?”

  “Doc?” I asked, turning as she walked off. Was she really leaving me here with a complete stranger?

  “Honey, I’ve got to get to the dining hall before they stop serving breakfast,” she said. “You want to eat, don’t you?”

  “No worries,” Jordy said. “I’ll show you what’s what. We’ve got shampoo and soap, and even rubber duckies if that’s what you’re into.”

  “Go on, Willow,” Doc called out. “Jordy is good people. I promise!”

  Swallowing back the countless number of irrational fears swirling inside me, I turned back to Jordy.

  “Is it because I’m an Aussie? That why you don’t trust me?” he asked, laughing. “We ain’t all criminals and convicts, I promise.” Still laughing, Jordy signaled for me to follow him, leading me inside the bathhouse, pointing out two wooden benches that sat on either side of the entranceway—one bench piled high with stacks of neatly folded towels and the other laden with toiletries. At least a dozen ceramic sinks adorned the entrance room, each sink with its own mirror and small shelf. Everything had been cleaned to a shine.

/>   “Crappers are thataway,” he said, pointing to a room on the left. “And showers are thataway.” He waved toward a second adjoining room separated by a thick vinyl curtain. The curtain was pulled to one side, providing me a glimpse of at least a half dozen shower stalls.

  “The water isn’t hot,” Jordy warned. “It gets pumped from the well, so unless it sits in the sun for a while, it’s usually pretty cold.”

  Shaking my head, I mumbled, “I’m used to creek baths and showers in the rain. I’m still in awe that you guys even have running water.”

  “Ahhh, yes,” he replied with a laugh. “I remember those days. Don’t worry—soon you’ll be whining about cold water like everyone else around here.” Flashing me another lackadaisical grin, he continued, “Anyway, I’ll get out of your way. Holler if you need something.”

  Standing in front of one of the many sinks, wrapped in a faded-blue towel, still wet from my shower, I stared at my reflection in the mirror, not really recognizing myself. Lifting a finger to my face, I slowly traced the shape of my mouth. I looked different than I remembered—my cheeks were rounder and my lips fuller than the last time I’d taken more than a brief look at myself. And my breasts were fuller, I realized, glancing down at my chest.

  Turning slightly, I ran a hand through my unbound and freshly washed hair. My hair had never been something I’d concerned myself with before. Never knowing when I’d be able to wash it next, I’d always kept it in braids in an attempt to keep myself as neat as possible. I was thinking about it now, though, as I gazed over the long length of curls, the tips of which were brushing my waistline.

  I looked… surprisingly good, even with the bags under my eyes. A little older, too. In fact, the more I stared at myself, the more I thought I might resemble my mother. Brushing my fingers through my hair, recalling the feel of her gentle hands doing the same, I swallowed hard, shuddering through a sudden torrent of emotion.

  As my expression crumbled, I turned away from the mirror, sucking in deep breaths in an attempt to not cry. I dressed quickly in clean jeans and a T-shirt, knotting the oversized top at my waist. Finished cleaning up after myself, I took a steadying breath, and headed out into the heat of the day.

  Jordy was lounging in a beach chair just outside the bathhouse; noticing me, his eyes went wide as he scrambled to stand. “Feel better?” he asked.

  My gaze switched to my feet. “Yeah.”

  “Cool, cool.” His appraising gaze turned downright appreciative and I flushed under the intensity. Barring Lucas, I couldn’t remember anyone ever looking at me in such a way. “Hey, I really like your hair like that—you scrub up alright”

  “Um, thanks…” Reaching to touch my hair, I quickly folded my arms over my chest. “I, um—I guess I should probably be getting back to Doc’s now.”

  “I’ll walk you back,” he offered with a shrug.

  “No, that’s okay. I’m sure you’re really busy—”

  Jordy laughed. “You kidding, mate? I’m only busy working on my tan right now. Towels are washed, shelves restocked… ” He shrugged again. “Come on, let me walk you back. It’s no trouble; I’m happy to do it. I need to stretch my legs anyway.”

  I glanced back the way I’d come—the shortcut through the trees—and then, with a reluctant sigh, agreed to follow Jordy down the path that soon led us into the heart of camp. At the first sight of people—a pair of women who only spared us a brief greeting—my unease doubled.

  “Are you always this tense?” Jordy asked.

  Surprised, my gaze shot to his. Out of all the colorful words that had been used to describe me throughout the course of my life, tense had never been among them. It was Logan who’d always been the tense one, who was always keyed up and on edge. Yet, even as I thought it, I was suddenly aware of the rigid way I was holding myself, of the downward turn of my mouth, and the nervous way I kept glancing around. Was this who I was now?

  Unsure of what to say, I merely shrugged miserably in response.

  As we looped around the center of camp, Jordy began pointing out different buildings, telling me about each. I attempted listening at first, but like everything else lately, it ended up being too much for me. While Jordy continued his tour, I gazed up at the clouds overhead, finding a formation that looked a little like a rabbit. And several others that had a definite resemblance to teacups.

  It’s always teatime, I heard Lucas say.

  “And we’ve no time to wash the things between whiles,” I whispered.

  “What’s that?” Jordy asked.

  I shook my head and looked away, surprised to find that we’d walked into an area of camp full of cabins, several of which were in various states of repair. A construction crew bustled to and fro between buildings, shouting to be heard over the sound of tools. As I scanned the numerous faces, my gaze halted on the only one I recognized.

  Logan was seated astride a long beam at the top of a newly built structure, his blond hair glowing gold in the sun, his tool belt strapped around his waist, a hammer in hand. Plucking a nail from the several pressed between his lips, he held it in place as he nailed it in; he repeated this until he’d run out of nails, he paused to pull his shirt up, using the hem of it to wipe the sweat from his face.

  “I’m gonna hit up a mate real quick,” Jordy said. “You don’t mind, do ya?”

  “No,” I replied, waving him off. “Go ahead.”

  While Jordy walked away, I looked back to Logan, startled to find his narrowed gaze clashing with mine. If Logan was surprised to see me, his stern features gave nothing away. Staring at one another, I found myself thinking about my hair again—how pretty it had looked in the mirror—and the unmistakable feeling of guilt began to stir in my belly. The longer we stared at one another, the guiltier I felt—guilt for thinking about something as frivolous as hair. Guilt for taking a shower, and having enjoyed it, too. And the worst guilt of all—the guilt that had left me unable to get out of bed, unable to face my new reality, the reality where I was alive and Lucas was not.

  “Ready?” As Jordy returned to my side and Logan’s eyes flicked to the slim, shirtless man beside me, I dropped my gaze, feeling suddenly embarrassed for reasons I couldn’t quite explain. Wrapping my arms around my middle, I limped quickly down the path, feeling Logan’s hard stare burning holes into my back.

  Logan

  What the fuck.

  Jaw locked, nostrils flared, I watched Willow walk off with Jordy—the idiot who manned the bathhouse. He was young, in his early twenties, and seemed to suffer from an aversion to shirts and shoes, as I’d yet to see him wearing either. He was always grinning and telling jokes—mostly to the women in camp—and giving the impression of being an easygoing, carefree kind of guy, which was, word for word, my very least favorite type of person.

  Willow didn’t appear altogether comfortable with his attention either; the sole reason I hadn’t yet chucked my hammer at Jordy’s perfectly coiffed head of hair. That, and the fact that I hadn’t even recognized Willow at first.

  Her hair was down, hanging to her waist in tight, unruly curls, glistening wet in the bright sunlight. I couldn’t remember having ever seen her hair loose like this before, even back before the world had gone to shit. Her clothes were ones I’d never seen before too; form-fitting jeans and a knotted T-shirt showing several inches of smooth skin at her waist. She’d gained some weight since I’d last seen her; her curves had reappeared, and her cheeks were as plump as I remembered them. Even her limp had improved considerably; it was hardly noticeable unless you were looking for it. In time, it would probably disappear entirely.

  Willow had healed.

  She’d also, at some point over the last two weeks, grown into a seriously fucking beautiful woman.

  I’d never really understood what Lucas had seen in her, and maybe that was because, for me, her obnoxious personality and over-the-top outfits had always overshadowed her looks. But looking at her now…

  Staring after her, I was still reeling.<
br />
  “Hey, Logan! You done over there? Wanna grab a water break?”

  Seated astride the beam beside mine, Elijah—EJ for short—was eagerly waving a hammer around. Fresh out of high school when the world called it quits, EJ had just enlisted in the army—a decision he claimed had saved his life. Though he hadn’t been a soldier very long, he still wore his dog tags all these years later, and kept his head and face freshly shaved. Like me, he was a regular on the construction crew, usually serving as foreman when Joshua was busy elsewhere.

  While I was thinking up an excuse, another voice chimed in. “I think a water break sounds great, don’t you, Logan?” Peering up at me, Leisel mouthed UXO, before walking off.

  Glaring after her, fighting back my rising anger, I gritted out, “Sure, EJ. A water break sounds great.”

  “Sweet!” EJ’s enthusiasm was palpable as he swung his leg over the beam, jumping to the ground below. Sighing, I slipped my hammer into my tool belt and followed suit. I was genuinely thirsty, and I really didn’t want Liesel following me around every day, treating me like some sort of pariah—thinking that at any moment I was going to explode.

  “Did you see that twelve-point Buck the hunting crew brought in yesterday? We’re gonna be feastin’ tonight.” Grinning, EJ fell in step beside me. “Man, we’re never that lucky; rabbits and turkey, that’s all we ever seem to get.”

  As per usual, EJ would talk enough for both of us, while I merely grunted and nodded in reply. Every day it felt like someone was always wanting to talk to me about something utterly irrelevant—I didn’t give a single shit about weather patterns, personal grudges, or the absolute worst of all, who was hooking up with who. And maybe this was typical when your community consisted of only fifty-odd people—but for me, the constant chatting was quickly becoming hellish. Admittedly, I’d even begun to miss the solitude I’d once claimed to hate.

  “Hey there, slowpokes.” Britta was headed our way, twirling a hammer in her hand as if it were a baton. “What’s the holdup on your cabin? Mine’s nearly done.”